


Progress

by todxrxki



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Post-Time Skip, Second Chances, also helping each other :'), meeting again and falling in love, mentions of anxiety and depression etc, pretty bad agoraphobia and social anxiety tbh
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-09
Updated: 2020-05-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:15:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,363
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24085720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/todxrxki/pseuds/todxrxki
Summary: He winces at the sound of the voice, and then turns around to see an all-too-familiar face. Well, it’s not so familiar anymore - it’s been a few years since he’s seen him. Akaashi Keiji, former setter of Fukurodani. The last time he’d seen him was his third year of high school, back when they were both on their respective high school’s volleyball teams. He remembers looking out the window of the Nekoma bus a few hours after their loss at Nationals to see a crowd of people waving them goodbye. He’d caught Akaashi’s gaze just for a few minutes as the bus pulled away, and that had been it... Until now. / Of second meetings and helping each other to progress.
Relationships: Akaashi Keiji/Kozume Kenma
Comments: 23
Kudos: 166





	Progress

**Author's Note:**

  * For [prettymintyfresh](https://archiveofourown.org/users/prettymintyfresh/gifts).



_ Beep. Beep. Beeeeep. _

“God,” Kenma mutters to himself, his hand flying out from under the covers to smack his phone, though of course it doesn’t do much good. He finally gets his hand on the phone and switches his alarm off, then pushes himself up into a seated position. The room around him is shrouded in complete darkness. He sighs to himself, contemplating going back to sleep. But  _ no  _ \- he’d promised himself that he’d get out of bed at a normal hour, and he’d also promised Kuroo. Fucking Kuroo, who had to have a hand in his life even though he’s thousands of miles away.

Well, now that he’s awake, he might as well go get some coffee or something to keep himself alert. He ambles out of bed and makes his way to the kitchen. However, it takes just a few seconds for him to realize that he’s out of coffee.

Shit, he thinks to himself.  _ Shit. _

At least this gives him some sort of purpose for the day - now he has to go and hunt down some coffee at the grocery store. He’ll finally be getting out of the house. Kuroo would be proud. (Kenma gives his best friend a mental middle finger, even though Kuroo hadn’t  _ actually  _ done anything.) It’s just… well, he really doesn’t want to go. He doesn’t want to see people. He doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Even just the thought makes his throat feel like it’s closing up. 

“You can do this,” he mumbles to himself as he brushes his hair and puts on a hoodie, even though he feels like an idiot saying it to himself. “You can.” He repeats it inside his head as he gets on the train, hiding himself away in a corner and praying that no one will look at him. 

It doesn’t get any better, unfortunately. The creeping feeling of dread only continues to spread as he gets off the train and walks towards the supermarket. He can feel people’s eyes on him. The intrusive eyes just follow him as he walks in the sliding doors, as he gets a shopping cart and starts to pace the aisles, throwing random things into his cart. He feels his breathing start to speed up.  _ Just breathe,  _ he reminds himself. He can do this. No, he  _ has  _ to do this. Who else is going to do it for him? His breathing keeps stuttering, and he keeps yelling at himself internally to breathe, breathe,  _ breathe _ \- 

“Kozume-san? Is that you?”

Fuck.

He winces at the sound of the voice, and then turns around to see an all-too-familiar face. Well, it’s not so familiar anymore - it’s been a few years since he’s seen him.  _ Akaashi Keiji,  _ former setter of Fukurodani. The last time he’d seen him was his third year of high school, back when they were both on their respective high school’s volleyball teams. He remembers looking out the window of the Nekoma bus a few hours after their loss at Nationals to see a crowd of people waving them goodbye. He’d caught Akaashi’s gaze just for a few minutes as the bus pulled away, and that had been it.

Until now.

Akaashi looks… different. Speaking purely objectively, Akaashi has always been gorgeous in a way that’s almost unworldly, and that beauty clearly hasn’t faded at all. Still, there’s something off in the large bags under his eyes, almost rivaling Kenma’s own, and the glasses perched upon his nose that he hadn’t been wearing before. And there’s something in his gaze that looks exhausted.

Kenma clears his throat, realizing he owes Akaashi a response. “Hello, Akaashi. It’s been a while.” 

“Are you all right?” Akaashi asks politely. “You seem a little frazzled.”

“Ah, yes. I just woke up,” Kenma says, unwilling to get into the details of his anxiety with someone who feels like a virtual stranger. He and Akaashi had never been  _ close,  _ exactly. They’d mostly been brought together by their respective best friends: Akaashi went where Bokuto went, and Kenma went where Kuroo went. Occasionally they’d exchange glances when the two of them did something irredeemably stupid. They talked sometimes, too: Akaashi would ask Kenma what games he was playing, or Kenma would ask how their practice games had gone. During their third year, they’d talked more: about their future plans, about their school lives, but they’d never gotten that deep in their conversational topics. And then they’d graduated, and they’d lost touch: just as Kenma had with so many others. 

But now they’re here. They’re in the same grocery store, and Akaashi is staring disapprovingly at Kenma’s shopping cart. “Does any of this have a bit of nutritional value? Honestly, you’d think that someone who played volleyball for as long as you did would have somewhat of a clue about nutrition…”

Kenma pulls his cart back, his eyebrows narrowing in irritation. It’s too reminiscent of something his obnoxious best friend would say. “We haven’t seen each other in years and the first thing you think to do is criticize my food choices?”

“I suppose if you put it like that,” Akaashi says, chuckling. “Still, it’s good to see you, Kozume-san. You look… different.”

“You mean my hair,” Kenma says. “Yeah, I’ve been too lazy to dye it again. And I like it longer anyways.”

“It looks nice,” Akaashi says in return. It’s a compliment, Kenma knows, but his anxiety has set in again, his heart pounding loudly in his chest, his fight or flight reflexes telling him to get the hell out of there. There’s no way that someone like Akaashi could sincerely think that  _ Kenma  _ looks nice. 

“Uh, thanks,” he manages in response. “I should probably get back to shopping now, but…”

“Would you want to get coffee with me?” Akaashi interrupts before Kenma can finish his sentence. “I mean, after we finish grocery shopping. I know a really good shop in the area.”

Kenma considers for a moment. On one hand, he really does want coffee, and he trusts Akaashi’s tastes. However, that implies spending even more time outside, surrounded by people. Still, the concept of telling Akaashi no, of returning home to an empty house and abject loneliness feels bitter on his tongue. He gives a slow nod. “Sure, that’d be fine.”

“Great,” Akaashi says, a tiny smile tugging at his lips, spreading over his features, making him look even more ethereal than before. “I’ll meet you at the front once you’re finished shopping.”

“Okay,” Kenma says, finding that it’s suddenly even harder to breathe.

.

Thankfully, the coffee shop Akaashi was referring to isn’t too far from the supermarket. Kenma attempts to hide behind the pieces of hair that have fallen out of his ponytail on the walk there. If Akaashi finds it weird, though, he doesn’t say anything. Akaashi has always been good like that, Kenma thinks.

“So,” Kenma says, sipping at his drink: a chocolate-flavored coffee drink, the perfect mix of sweetness and caffeine that Kenma needs to fuel himself. “What are you up to these days?”

“I’m a manga editor, actually. For a shonen manga company,” Akaashi says. 

“A manga editor?” Kenma narrows his eyebrows. “I didn’t really think you were the type of guy who was interested in manga, much less shonen.”

Akaashi groans like this is something that has been weighing heavily on his chest for a while and runs a hand through his messy hair. “It wasn’t my first choice. I was hoping to be put in the literature department, but I had no such luck.”   
  


Kenma rests his arm on the table, studying Akaashi’s expression. There’s something in the draw of his brow, in the still-prominent eye bags under his eyes that makes him ask, “Well, how is it?” 

“Unfortunately not what I’d have chosen for myself,” Akaashi says. “I end up working 60 hours a week, often more. I haven’t slept a full night in…” He pauses, as though calculating. “Months. But it’s alright. This is what I signed up for, after all.”

“And yet you were getting onto me for not eating healthy,” Kenma says. “It sounds like you’re bleeding yourself dry.”

Akaashi shrugs. “As I said before, it’s fine. I’ll survive. But you… what are you up to these days?”

Kenma catches him up to speed on Kenma’s life, on how he mostly works remotely these days: streaming, posting videos, and trading stocks to afford his quiet lifestyle. There’s a look that’s almost envious in Akaashi’s eyes. If only he knew, Kenma thinks glumly. If only he was aware that Kenma had only chosen this career path so he wouldn’t have to interact with people on a daily basis. If he knew how useless Kenma was when it came to being around people, he’d probably decide Kenma was a freak and avoid him. 

So he doesn’t tell him. Instead, he listens as Akaashi asks, “How’s Kuroo-san doing these days? Bokuto-san mentioned that he’s in the US, right?”

Kenma nods. “He’s getting his Ph.D. in Chemical Engineering at some prestigious school. He really enjoys it. He’s had some challenges with speaking English all the time and whatnot, but I think he’s really happy there.” 

“That’s good,” Akaashi says, his tone soft, almost wistful. Kenma then takes the opportunity to ask about Bokuto, even though he knows from Shouyou’s sporadic texts that he and Shouyou are on the same team and gets more updates on Bokuto than he probably would’ve liked. Akaashi sounds wistful when discussing Bokuto as well, talking about how happy he is to be playing pro volleyball. Kenma wonders if Akaashi feels as though he had lost his own chance at happiness.

He hopes that’s not the truth.

But as they’re about to leave the coffee shop, Kenma finds himself turning to Akaashi. “Are you usually free at this time every week?”

“I believe so,” Akaashi says. “Why?”

“I was thinking maybe we could get coffee at this time again next week,” Kenma says quietly. He’s not even sure why he says it; he’s not usually the type to make the first move when it comes to friendships. But there’s something mildly desperate in the way that Akaashi’s behaving that makes him want to reach out.

Besides, Kenma is lonely. This is a fact that he’s long admitted to himself. His best friend lives half a world away, and his second best friend lives too far away for constant visits to be feasible. It might be nice to have someone to talk to that actually lives in his city.

That is, if he can get the feeling of dread that consumes him as Akaashi agrees and says his goodbyes to go away.

.

From that point on, they establish what one might refer to as a routine.

Every week on Sunday afternoon, both of them head to the grocery store first of all to catch up on some groceries they might need for the week. Akaashi makes a face upon seeing the junk food that Kenma piles up in his cart, but otherwise starts to keep his comments to himself. Kenma feels much the same upon seeing the fresh vegetables stacked into Akaashi’s cart, but also doesn’t comment, though the thought of eating that healthily makes him a little nauseous. 

From there, they’ll head to the coffee shop. Kenma will usually get either a chocolate coffee drink or a hot chocolate, depending on his need for caffeine for the day. He’ll sit down at the table that’s the furthest away from everyone else in the coffee shop. The first time he did this, Akaashi looked at him questioningly, but thankfully never actually asked about it, and Kenma’s pretty sure he’s gotten used to it at this point. Sometimes they talk: about the manga that Akaashi edits or the games Kenma’s been playing or their best friends or their lives in general.

“I’m assuming you’re playing that new animal game that just came out,” Akaashi says, a small twinkle in his eyes, barely visible behind his glasses - but still there.

“Animal game?” Kenma asks, thinking for a second before it hits him. “Oh, you mean Animal Crossing.”

“Yes, that one,” Akaashi says. “I honestly am not really certain what you do in that game besides converse with animals, but it seems... nice.”

In response, Kenma reaches down into his bag to pull out his Switch and turns it on. Akaashi raises an eyebrow at him. “Do you bring that with you everywhere you go?” Kenma stares at him, and Akaashi sighs. “Right. Stupid question, I suppose.”

He drags his chair slightly closer to Akaashi’s, but not too close - he’s all too aware of the other customers in the coffee shop that could see them and assume incorrect things about the two of them. “This is my island,” he explains. “I guess you could say the goal is to improve your island. Get more villagers - uh, the animals - to come to your island and upgrade your house. You can get money by doing things like selling items, fishing, catching bugs…”

“You can sell bugs?” Akaashi asks. “Who would pay money for bugs?”

“The Nooklings, apparently. Here. You can explore my island for a bit, if you want. Just don’t destroy anything.”

“I don’t think I’d even know how to destroy anything,” Akaashi says. Kenma explains the basic controls to him as well as the tools that he has, and he watches as Akaashi runs around his island, talking to his animals and complimenting his decor. He can’t tell if the pounding of his heart is due to his anxiety from being in public or due to something else entirely, and honestly, he doesn’t want to know.

Sometimes, though, they just sit in silence for a little bit, enjoying the time away from the rest of the world. Akaashi will be reading - either one of the manga volumes that he has to edit or a newspaper or a book, and Kenma will take out his Switch or his phone to pass the time. It’s peaceful, being with someone but not feeling obligated to interact with them. Whichever way the coffee ‘dates’ go, Kenma can’t help but think he’s beginning to enjoy this little routine, and finds himself grateful that he’d proposed it.

One Sunday, though, Akaashi shows up to their weekly coffee session late, missing the grocery store portion entirely, and looking as though he’s in an even worse state than usual. His hair is uncombed, sticking up in a way that looks even  _ worse  _ than Kuroo’s, and the eye bags under his eyes are far too prominent. Kenma frowns at him. “Y’know, you don’t look too good,” he says. 

“Thanks,” Akaashi groans, sitting down across from Kenma. “I truly appreciate your compliments, Kozume-san.”

“It’s not an insult, just an observation,” Kenma replies flatly. “Did something happen?”

“I suppose you could say that,” Akaashi says, putting his head down on the table. “It’s just… the past week has been stressful, to say the least. All these deadlines all at once. I think I got… one… two? Two hours of sleep last night. At least, I hope I did.”

Kenma frowns. Akaashi’s speaking nonsense. He’s definitely exhausted, then - to the point that he’s out of his mind. “Listen, Akaashi. My house is one train stop away. Why don’t you stop by and take a nap?”

“A nap,” Akaashi says, his voice warm, but then he seems to snap out of his trance. “Wait, no. We’re supposed to be getting coffee together. That’s why you came here. I don’t want you to have to leave early because of me.”

“I already got my coffee to-go,” Kenma says, pointing down at the cup in front of him. “It’s not a big deal, seriously. I just don’t want you to pass out while we’re in the middle of coffee.”

“I’m n… not going to pass out,” Akaashi says, his voice slurred. 

Kenma fixes him with a glare that he hopes is threatening enough. “Come on, Akaashi. This isn’t up for discussion.”

Akaashi finally gives in, draping his arm around Kenma’s shoulder after Kenma pats it so that he can help lug Akaashi back to Kenma’s place before Akaashi passes out. They make it there fairly quickly, though it’s not exactly fun for Kenma. He can feel the eyes of everyone in the vicinity on the both of them now, making assumptions about them.  _ Is the other guy hurt? How could someone that beautiful even consider being friends with someone that looks like that? Is that guy threatening him or something?  _

Kenma wants to scream. He wants to rip his hair out. He wants to melt into the ground. But Akaashi’s arm around his neck feels like a solid weight to latch onto, and so he doesn’t let go.

Once they make it to Kenma’s house, Kenma guides him to his bedroom, wary of what Akaashi must think. His place isn’t too messy, but it’s not particularly clean either, and there are video games all over the place. Akaashi probably thinks that he’s an irredeemable nerd, which isn’t exactly false, but not the impression he wants someone like Akaashi to have of him. Still, he manages to get Akaashi into the bed. He pulls the covers up to Akaashi’s chin and takes the glasses off of his face, placing them precariously on the bedside table. “Sleep well,” he whispers. And he’s about to exit the room, to leave Akaashi to sleep in peace, when he pauses for a moment in the doorway.

He’s never seen Akaashi sound asleep like this. It occurs to him all of a sudden that Akaashi is even more beautiful than ever in his sleep, his facial features relaxed and soft. Kenma can’t help but stand there, transfixed by his beauty, the heat climbing up the back of Kenma’s neck.  _ Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.  _

Akaashi groans in his sleep then, though, and it occurs to Kenma how weird what he’s doing is. Friends don’t watch other friends sleep. It’s beyond creepy. He’s glad Akaashi can’t see him now, as he quickly exits the room, but it doesn’t stop the too-fast beating of his heart.

Akaashi is beautiful. Too beautiful for someone like Kenma. Too hardworking, too interesting, too caring, too - too  _ everything  _ to ever be Kenma’s. He needs to clear his head of any of these misconceptions that he could ever be with someone like Akaashi.

But even as he heads to his gaming room to play a game or two to distract himself, the image of a peacefully sleeping Akaashi burns itself into his mind, and the heat in his chest refuses to dissipate.

.

Their little tradition keeps going. Their conversations start to drill a little deeper, though, which Kenma can’t decide if he finds exhilarating or terrifying.

“I always thought that you weren’t really into attention,” Akaashi says one day, his long fingers drumming against the wood of the table, catching Kenma’s attention before he pulls his gaze back to Akaashi’s face, afraid that he might get caught staring. “What made you want to become a YouTuber and streamer? I was searching online last night and couldn’t help but notice how many results there were and how many fans you had. I was surprised, given how you’d try to hide back in high school.”

Akaashi has always been observant: in a different way than Kenma, yet simultaneously kind of the same. Kenma lifts a shoulder in a halfhearted shrug. “Honestly, I’m not sure. Back in high school, some people just told me that I might be able to make some money playing video games, and at the time I was more desperate for money than I am now, so I decided to give it a shot. I never expected it to blow up the way it has now.”

Akaashi nods, his voice oddly quiet as he asks, “Are you happy with how big it’s gotten?” 

“It’s a little overwhelming,” Kenma confesses. “I don’t like when people recognize me in public or find out things about me that they shouldn’t know, like… where I was born and stuff. But what can I do about it? It’s too late for takebacks. I guess I’ll just wait for my spotlight to fade.” He lifts his head slightly, catching Akaashi’s eyes. “What about you? I never thought you’d end up in the manga industry. I thought you were dedicated to volleyball. You were one of the better setters that we faced, after all.”

Akaashi breathes in, staring ahead - not at Kenma, but at the wall behind him. “You’ve seen setters like Kageyama and Miya-san,” he says quietly. “I can’t measure up to people like that.”

Kenma had known that Akaashi had insecurities, particularly on the volleyball court - but it’s one thing to observe them, and another to be informed flat out like this, almost like he’s being trusted. Regardless, though, he doesn’t quite understand how that could be enough to convince Akaashi to drop volleyball altogether. “If you kept going, you would’ve gotten better, right?”

“Yes, but while I am getting better, those two would’ve continued improving at the same rate - or an even faster rate,” Akaashi says. “No matter how hard I worked, it would have never been enough. I’m better off this way.”

_ Are you?  _ Kenma wants to ask.  _ Are you really?  _ The bags under his eyes have only grown bigger and darker. Would it be better to be doing what he loves, never able to catch up to the others in his field, or to do something that he loves less but have a chance of rising up - a chance that he’s running himself ragged going for?

But he doesn’t ask. He just nods and says, “I see.”

“Kozume-san,” Akaashi begins, then stops himself. “Could I call you Kenma, actually?”

“I’d been hoping you would,” Kenma replies. “I hate all the stupid formality stuff.”   
  


“In that case, you can call me Keiji too,” Akaashi tells him.  _ Keiji,  _ Kenma thinks. It feels strangely intimate even to think it in the confines of his own head. He feels the heat creeping back into his cheeks and prays that Akaashi won’t notice. “But Kenma, I know you work at home most of the time and I just… do you ever feel lonely?”

_ More often than not,  _ Kenma thinks, but thinks that it’d make him sound pathetic. So instead he goes with, “Yeah. A lot.”   
  


“Me too,” Akaashi says, his voice barely a wistful whisper. Kenma’s tempted to reach across and take Akaashi’s hand, slide Akaashi’s long fingers through his, feel the comforting heat of touching another person - after  _ months  _ and  _ months  _ of no physical contact because Kuroo’s miles and miles away and Shouyou is a busy volleyball player and he has sporadic contact with the others these days at best. 

But he doesn’t. He doesn’t, because they’re still in a coffee shop, and he’s well aware that there are other people in the coffee shop - people that would look at them with stares of disgust and judgment, people that would make assumptions about him that may or may not be true.

He digs his nails into the skin of his palm and answers, “Well... I’m here.”

.

He decides that the best response to their conversation is to invite Akaashi over to his apartment again later that week. Akaashi replies with a singular date and time that he’s free, but it’s a date and a time that works for Kenma. Not that he’d mind rearranging his schedule for Akaashi at this point, pathetic as it sounds. 

He offers the still exhausted-looking Akaashi a mug of coffee as soon as he walks in the door. Akaashi smiles at him gratefully. “I always knew you understood me, Kenma,” he says, and it makes Kenma’s heart skip. 

He leads Akaashi to the couch, though, gets him a warm blanket so they can settle in and watch a movie. It’s warm and comfortable, and unlike Kuroo, Akaashi doesn’t feel the need to talk during the movie except to make comments that are actually intelligent. Kenma finds himself enjoying it immensely; it’s better than watching movies by himself, with no one to bounce theories off of or just to be  _ there. _

But then, halfway through the movie, Akaashi’s phone rings. 

He shoots Kenma an apologetic look. “It’s from work,” he says in way of explanation.

“You have tonight off, don’t you?” Kenma asks.

“Well, yes,” Akaashi replies. “But sometimes they call me on my days off too in case of emergencies and such.”

“If it’s an emergency, shouldn’t they be calling the emergency services and not you?”

“Kenma,” Akaashi says, his tone clipped. “It’s a work emergency.” 

Kenma doesn’t stop him as he walks outside to take the call, only presses pause on the movie, but he can feel his own disdain radiating off of him as he stews and waits for Akaashi to come back. It’s not that he’s even angry, exactly. It’s more that he’s worried, that he doesn’t like to see Akaashi like this, that he wants to step in before Akaashi’s downwards spiral hits rock bottom.

Akaashi apologizes again once he comes back in, and Kenma just sighs. Akaashi narrows his eyebrows at him. “Do you have something that you’d like to say? I apologized already, but at the current moment, my career comes first.”

“Your career comes before everything, Keiji,” Kenma says. “Before your friends, before your hobbies, and definitely before your own health.”

“And?” Akaashi says, a challenging note to his voice. “Who are you to accuse me? I’ve seen your grocery cart. You hardly eat anything with any nutritional value. You stay up half the night playing video games. Forgive me, but if anyone’s going to be pointing fingers here about my health, I’d rather it not be  _ you _ .” 

“I’m used to all of that, though,” Kenma says. “It doesn’t affect me the way it’s clearly affecting you. It can’t be healthy.”

“So it’s healthy for you to stay cooped up in your house all the time? You’re a filthy hypocrite,  _ Kozume. _ ”

_ It’s different for me, _ Kenma wants to say. He doesn’t want the same life for Akaashi that he lives for himself. He wants Akaashi to be healthy, happy.

Akaashi says, “Why should you care if I were to run myself ragged anyways? It’s not like it would affect you.”

“Oh yeah,” Kenma snaps. “Wouldn’t affect me at all. Except that I care about you and I don’t want to see you run yourself into an early grave. But go ahead, push me away like you do everyone else, why don’t you?”

Akaashi’s face crumples up, torn somewhere between sadness and anger. Kenma waits for an explosion, but it doesn’t come. Instead, Akaashi turns away, simply saying, “Goodbye, Kozume-san,” and turning to walk out the door. Somehow it stings more than any explosion ever could.

.

The next week, Kenma goes to the coffee shop, just in case. Akaashi doesn’t show up.

And then a few days later he gets a message from Kuroo, of all people.  _ Heard some shit went down between you and Akaashi. What’s going on? _

It’s both out of genuine care and Kuroo’s love for drama, Kenma knows. He sends a short explanation of what’s been going on the past few months - how they’d been meeting up for coffee, how they’d become friends, all down to their argument and how Akaashi had stormed out and hadn’t spoken to him since. It takes a while for Kuroo to reply, and when he does, it’s a simple response:  _ He’ll apologize. I’m sure of it. It’s just that he can be stubborn when he wants to be, y’know? But it’s gonna be okay. I’m proud of you for branching out, by the way. _

Kenma rolls his eyes as he puts down his phone. He doesn’t need Kuroo to be proud of him; he’s not a four year old making his first friend at daycare. But the other part of him he can’t help hoping will come true.

It takes another week before there’s a quiet knock on his door.

He checks his phone to see it’s Akaashi’s usual day off. He can’t help the way his heart beats too hard in his chest, even though he knows it can’t be possible, knows that Akaashi’s still pissed at him - 

It’s Akaashi.

Akaashi stands there uncomfortably for a moment, his eyes on the ground before he finally says, “Can I come in?”

“Yeah,” Kenma says, stepping to the side, his breath sucked entirely from his lungs. Akaashi makes his way in and sits down in a chair, and Kenma takes the seat beside him. He waits for Akaashi to speak. When Akaashi doesn’t, Kenma exhales and says, “Well?”

Akaashi still doesn’t reply. Instead, he slowly starts shaking, soft sobs falling from his lips. It’s the first time Kenma’s ever seen Akaashi cry. He’d kind of hoped he never would.

He’s not exactly the most adept at comforting. He’s always known how to comfort Kuroo, mostly because he’s known Kuroo so long, but he’s also aware that other people aren’t his stupid best friend. And he wants to comfort Akaashi the right way. 

He stands up, moving awkwardly towards Akaashi. “Uh,” he says softly. “Can I?” He hopes that Akaashi will understand, that he won’t have to actually voice that he wants to hug Akaashi. 

Thankfully, Akaashi picks up on it. “Yes,” he says, leaning towards Kenma, and Kenma wraps his arms around him. Akaashi is warm and sharp and he pulls Kenma closer, against his chest, and before Kenma knows it he’s practically in Akaashi’s lap. He wonders if Akaashi’s going to push him away. He wonders if Akaashi finds this weird.

But then there’s something even warmer pressed against his mouth.

It takes him a moment to realize that Akaashi is kissing him.

Before he can even think about kissing back, Akaashi pulls back abruptly, his eyes big. “Oh,” he says. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to… well, I did mean to, but I shouldn’t have. Well, honestly, I’m sorry about everything. About pushing you away, about that, about…”

“Keiji,” Kenma interrupts before he can ramble any further. “It’s okay. Especially the, y’know, kiss. I- I’ve been kind of hoping you’d do something like that.”

Akaashi’s mouth tilts up a little bit. He raises a hand to stroke Kenma’s cheeks, his long fingers leaving trails of fiery red where they touch. “You were right,” he says softly. “Work has been too much lately, and I suppose I had been letting them take advantage of me more than I should have. But you… you’ve been the one ray of light that’s been making my life brighter.”

“I’m not that bright,” Kenma mumbles, because he’s not a sunshine person like Shouyou, he’s just… Kenma. But then he decides it’s probably best not to argue and kisses Akaashi again, twining his fingers into Akaashi’s hair to pull him closer. “You know,” he says, “you make it easier to leave the house a lot of days. I guess that’s progress.”

“Hmmm,” Akaashi hums against his mouth. “You make me feel less lonely,” he says, and, well, that’s a sentiment Kenma can agree with completely.

.

On Akaashi’s next day off, instead of him coming over to Kenma’s, Kenma makes his way to his place in an attempt to expand his comfort zone. This time, Kenma sits closer, resting his head on Akaashi’s chest as Akaashi drapes his arm around Kenma’s shoulders. A few minutes in, his phone buzzes in his pocket, and Akaashi flinches.

Kenma looks up at him. Akaashi shakes his head, pulling out his phone and saying, “Hello, Udai-san. Is it important? Ah, yes, I’m with my boyfriend right now. Okay, yes, I’ll talk to you later.” He hangs up the phone and looks over at Kenma, his lips drawing up into a smile - the most authentic smile Kenma’s ever seen Akaashi give him.

_ His boyfriend,  _ Kenma thinks, his lips turning up just as Akaashi’s had. He presses a kiss against Akaashi’s lips, chuckling when Akaashi wraps his arms around Kenma’s back to pull him closer still. 

He supposes this is what they call progress. 

**Author's Note:**

> This story is for the lovely Lisa!! Thank you for your support, Akaken queen, and I truly hope you enjoy this Akaken meal :')


End file.
